A Ramble in the Park
by Elivra26
Summary: Mr. Darcy joins in on Elizabeth's walks in Rosings Park, much to her dismay. So what DO they talk about? Regency, One-Shot.


**And again, another fanfic inspired by a random phrase from the original work -a spin-off, if you will! This little one-shot takes place in Kent(oh, horrid Kent -no offence, I just hate the first proposal and everything to do with it) _before_ the proposal and _before_ Elizabeth knows of Darcy's involvement in the Jane/Bingley separation. The first paragraph in italics is taken straight out of the original, I have just expanded on this extract:**

_**"... it struck her in the course of their third rencontre that he was asking some odd unconnected questions-about her pleasure in being at Hunsford, her love of solitary walks, and her opinion of Mr. and Mrs. Collins's happiness; and that in speaking of Rosings and her not perfectly understanding the house, he seemed to expect that whenever she came into Kent again she would be staying there too. His words seemed to imply it..."**_

**Reviews, people! Go on, leave them behind, they don't cost much, you know, and they shall make this humble author here mighty pleased.**

_**Disclaimer: I was born in the twentieth century. Consequently, I am not Jane Austen. Consequently, I do not own Elizabeth Bennet, and consequently, I do not own Fitzwilliam Darcy. *sobs***_

* * *

><p><strong>A Ramble in the Park<strong>

_More than once did Elizabeth, in her ramble within the park, unexpectedly meet Mr. Darcy. She felt all the perverseness of the mischance that should bring him where no one else was brought, and, to prevent its ever happening again, took care to inform him at first that it was a favourite haunt of hers. How it could occur a second time, therefore, was very odd! Yet it did, and…_

... Elizabeth could do naught but wonder at the man's apparent obtuseness. The greater parts of the two rambles were spent in silence, for Mr. Darcy wontedly had little to say, and Elizabeth had an even lesser inclination to speak or listen. While she deplored at his ignorance of her obvious discomfort at his presence, _he_ could do nothing but wonder at the poignant beauty silence and a thoughtful mien offered her countenance.

It was thus that Elizabeth woke early one fine Monday morning with some trepidation. The weather was too splendid to be ignored –it was neither too warm nor too cold, and the fresh spring beauty of the countryside beckoned her through the windows. She would certainly not stay inside under such heady temptation; if she hesitated, it was for concern for once again chancing upon an unwanted companion.

Elizabeth was not one to shrink away from unpleasantness, and she quickly made her decision and dressed herself. With a satisfied sigh of pleasure, Elizabeth made towards her favourite walk, certain that it would be all the more enchanting in such a climate.

The walk meandered through several flowerbeds –natural and otherwise- and a beautiful grove of trees which naturally bent over the path in such a manner as to form a sheltered walkway of sorts. Elizabeth was happily strolling on the path for several minutes in content silence, when she espied a lone dark figure standing erect by a patch of particularly beautiful wildflowers. Surprise and curiosity were in Elizabeth's mind but for a moment; she then instantly recognised him to be Mr. Darcy. The man himself seemed to notice her at that very moment, and he approached her with a swift, elegant gait, and greeted her with a bow. "Miss Elizabeth."

"Mr. Darcy," she acknowledged, with a stiff curtsey. "I was not aware you would be up and about so early."

"I could not sleep," said he seriously.

"Ah, insomnia. I am aware of a likely remedy, if it interests you, Mr. Darcy."

"Certainly. I should like to repose in peace once again." Already he placed himself beside her and they continued the walk at a stiff, slow pace, side by side.

"It is simple: just before retiring for the night, one must consume a glassful of warm milk. My mother has forever prescribed this remedy to myself and my sisters, and it has never yet failed to work."

"I have already tried it, Miss Bennet."

"Indeed! Perhaps an herbal tisane would help?"

The gentleman shook his head, and his voice seemed to resonate with some warmth of feeling –"I have tried everything possible, Miss Bennet. I now deplore that I may never rest with ease in the night."

"Well, then, if I may be so bold as to speculate, I should imagine you have some deeply pressing matter worrying you at present."

"You presume correctly," said he, eyeing her warily.

"In that case, the only possible method to assure a good night's sleep would be to dissolve the problem at the earliest possible."

"It is not that simple, Miss Elizabeth."

This was said with such stern solemnity that Elizabeth blushed with fear she had been too probingly impolite. A spate of silence followed the conversation, and Elizabeth was left to admire the flowers at her own leisure while her companion watched her every expression of delight mutely.

Presently, he made an effort to resume their previous rapport. "Do you enjoy your stay at Hunsford, Miss Elizabeth?"

"Positively so, Mr. Darcy. Mrs. Collins was my dearest friend in Hertfordshire."

"Was?"-asked he cryptically.

Elizabeth coloured slightly. "She still is my dearest friend. I only meant that she no longer stays at Hertfordshire."

"Of course. I apologise for my prying."

"There is none required, sir. I'm sure you meant no mischief."

Again silence reigned over them.

"You must enjoy the numerous opportunities Kent offers for a ramble, Miss Bennet." –said he again, after several minutes.

"Indeed, Kent is quite splendid in that manner. Charlotte –Mrs. Collins- quite depended on its charm to entice me over to visit her."

"I should imagine so; Kent easily entices any possible person, garbed as it is in its robes of springtime beauty."

"How poetic, Mr. Darcy. Yet, it is very true. It makes quite a setting for romance. A couple in courtship could not spend its time in a more delightful place."

He glanced at her. "And yet _you_ often walk alone, Miss Elizabeth."

Elizabeth laughed. "I walk far too quickly and too randomly to please a female companion; I also cannot boast of any willing beaux at the moment to share my walks with. Thus I walk alone, Mr. Darcy –not that I complain. I revel in my solitude."

Mr. Darcy smiled. "I remember you insisting to me that you were of an unsocial, taciturn disposition. I wondered then, as I wonder now, if you truthfully deem it a fair description of your character."

"Who other than I would know myself better?" –she demanded archly.

"Who other, indeed?" –he agreed, although he seemed to be lost in contemplation of some obscure matter. Elizabeth realised that she had last said those words at the Netherfield Ball, and wondered if he, like her, was thinking of his friend.

"I trust the Collinses are well-satisfied and content?" –said he, after a brief moment of silence.

"Of course, sir, I have no reason to believe otherwise."

"I understood that it would possibly be rather awkward for you to stay in the premises of Hunsford. I hope that is not the case."

"How do you mean, Mr. Darcy?" –asked she, all astonishment.

"I have heard of your cousin's suit for you," said he, colouring deeply, after a moment of hesitation.

Elizabeth was so shocked at _his_ knowing, that all she could do was stare, while Mr. Darcy quickly launched into explanation, colouring even more, "I apologise, Miss Bennet. I'm afraid I sound rather too disgustingly inquisitive this morning."

"'Tis of no import, sir, although I must admit that I wonder at your knowing such an irrelevant piece of Hertfordshire news."

Mr. Darcy had his gaze fixed on the stone path as he said slowly, "My aunt, Miss Bennet, keeps herself aware of numerous events and happenings."

Elizabeth understood in a trice; immediately, her brow cleared and she burst into merry laughter. "Indeed, I should have guessed. I comprehend perfectly, Mr. Darcy, you need not apologise. Lady Catherine has an imperative need to be well-informed, surely we must not begrudge her such a trifle?"

He bowed his head. "Nevertheless, it was in bad taste, Miss Bennet. I apologise most profoundly for my lack of respect for your privacy."

"It is of no consequence, Mr. Darcy."

He then turned to her with an earnest gaze. "Then I repeat my humble enquiry after your wellbeing: I trust you are residing comfortably at Hunsford?"

"Perfectly so, Mr. Darcy. The morbid past casts no shadow over my stay here. Mr. and Mrs. Collins are quite happy with one another, in their own manner."

"In _their_ own manner?" –asked he, astutely catching upon her meaning.

Elizabeth hesitated but for a fraction of a moment, _she_ never had any qualms about announcing her views, scandalous as they may seem, to Mr. Darcy! "In their own manner, yes, Mr. Darcy. Mr. and Mrs. Collins are not unhappy, it is true, but they also do not possess between them the true joy I ascribe to a happy marriage."

"What then, according to you, is a happy marriage?"

"One which is based not on connections or on financial or social betterment, but on the more softer emotions of the human mind –on love. The temperaments must match, the mundane likes and dislikes, the habits, the quirks, must be reciprocally bearable. There must also be mutual respect and admiration in healthy quantities –I have seen for myself what an unequal marriage would be like, and I have no wish to doom myself to the same fate."

If Mr. Darcy had seen the reference she made to her own parents, he did not say so. Instead, he asked, with genuine curiosity, it seemed, "Does your friend subsist in an unequal marriage, then?"

Elizabeth nodded. "I know my friend too well –she is too good and sensible, much unlike my cousin. I know for a fact that she only chose him because she was sure she would not receive any further suits –she was already quite resigned to remaining an old maid until my cousin came along. However, they seem to have made a good match of it, and I cannot complain, for Charlotte seems to be genuinely happy."

"However, it is not something _you_ would ever choose yourself?"

"I should like to believe I never would, Mr. Darcy, but one never knows. Your aunt insisted the other evening that I give my opinions too decidedly for one so young, and I rather believe her to be true." –Elizabeth said the last in an effort to end the subject, for the talk was getting alarmingly personal for her comfort.

Mr. Darcy seemed to take the hint, for he replied with a non-committal –"Indeed. One never knows."

At this point, they reached a break in the trees and were able to chance upon a view of Rosings in all its imposing finery.

"That would be the East Wing, would it not, Mr. Darcy?" –Elizabeth asked, if for no other reason than to fill the uncomfortable silence.

"Yes. It is where my cousin and I are quartered at present."

"The ladies, then, reside in the other side of the house."

"Yes, Lady Catherine prefers to have a perfect view of the driveway from her windows."

Elizabeth wondered if he said it in jest or not, but his face was so uniformly grave that Elizabeth chose not to laugh at the picture his words presented: that of Lady Catherine, in her dressing gown, peering down autocratically from her windows at her driveway.

"'Tis a pity, for she misses the fine view of the grounds." –she said instead.

"Indeed, she does not, Miss Elizabeth. Her windows open on both sides."

"How is that so?"

"Rosings is quite ingeniously constructed. The building does not strictly lie on the perfect lines of a compass. Also, the other wing projects almost perpendicularly from ours –her rooms offer the best and most varied view of the park. You should see it when you take the left staircase when you enter the receiving hall. Almost all of the rooms in that wing face some spectacular scenery, which, I am sure, would please you. You would do well to avoid the nursery, which is in the same floor. That, and another guest room, next to Mrs. Jenkinson's quarters are quite ordinary in their aspects, for they both face our Wing and are thus open to plain wall."

"Indeed! That is most interesting." –Elizabeth said aloud, but wondered what Darcy could mean by relaying her all this information –it was not as though she, Elizabeth, would be staying at Rosings for the information to be of any import to her.

Mr. Darcy only seemed set upon with some confusion and he merely obliged with a stiff nod.

The silence after this was the profoundest yet, and if they talked, it was in generic questions and monosyllabic answers. Elizabeth was quite glad to find herself at the gate in the pales opposite the Parsonage, and she bid him good-bye with no little relief. She did not notice his queer, searching gaze rest on her face, nor did she notice him linger till she disappeared into the cottage.


End file.
